Funny Sand Quotes & Sayings

The shrine I prayed at not to go to university," Sand said.
"I guess your prayer was answered," Perrotte said.
Sand strongly considered throwing something at her - but there was nothing to hand that wasn't sacred. — Merrie Haskell

Wen you're a married man, Samivel, you'll understand a good many things as you don't understand now; but vether it's worth while goin' through so much to learn so little, as the charity-boy sand ven he go to the end of the alphabet, it's a matter of taste. — Charles Dickens

It seemed that, after contact with a few human generations, sand hogs would begin to understand human speech. The irony was that after coming to understand their riders fully, the beasts often ended up abandoning them and heading off into the wilderness. — Neal Asher

The Bible talks about building houses on sand and rock, but says nothing about a brick house built on a blanket. — Nicole McKay

Perrotte frowned. "I'd like to turn a plowshare into a sword ," she said. "I'd cut our way out of those thorns, and then use it to run my enemies through - " She bit off her next words and swallowed them. Sand stared at her, aghast. She met his eyes, defiant. "What? You don't like bloodthirstiness?" she asked. "Pardon? No. I'm horrified that you would dull a sword on that thorn brake. I could make you some pretty good hedge shears. — Merrie Haskell

Percy, you are dismissed from my service."
"Me? Why, my lord?"
"Why? Because, Percy, far from being a fit consort for a prince of the realm, you would bore the leggings off a village idiot. You ride a horse rather less well than another horse would. Your brain would make a grain of sand look large and ungainly, and the part of you that can't be mentioned, I am reliably informed by women around the court, wouldn't be worth mentioning even if it could be. If you put on a floppy hat and a funny codpiece, you might just get by as a fool, but since you wouldn't know a joke if it got up and gave you a haircut, I doubt it. That's why you're dismissed."
"Oh, I see."
"And as for you, Baldrick ... "
"Yes."
"You're out, too. — Richard Curtis

That was a mean thought, and not funny at all. I let it turn to sand and blow out of my head. — Christopher Buehlman

I love like I'm thirsty. Can I offer you a tall glass of Sahara sand? — Dark Jar Tin Zoo

You're not mending anything, remember, Sand? The hedge." He paused and shook his head at himself. "And Perrotte's away for a few minutes, and you're talking to yourself again. — Merrie Haskell

And turnips - endless ruptured turnips. — Merrie Haskell

Myrtle


How funny your name would be
if you could follow it back to where
the first person thought of saying it,
naming himself that, or maybe
some other persons thought of it
and named that person. It would
be like following a river to its source,
which would be impossible. Rivers have no source.
They just automatically appear at a place
where they get wider, and soon a real
river comes along, with fish and debris,
regal as you please, and someone
has already given it a name: St. Benno
(saints are popular for this purpose) or, or
some other name, the name of his
long-lost girlfriend, who comes
at long last to impersonate that river,
on a stage, her voice clanking
like its bed, her clothing of sand
and pasted paper, a piece of real technology,
while all along she is thinking, I can
do what I want to do. But I want to stay here. — John Ashbery

How did you get into the castle, Alexandre, son of Gilles Smith?"
Sand shrugged. "A saint kidnapped me from his shrine and put me into a fireplace here. So I guess the answer is, a miracle of Saint Melor. Or so I think. He has not told me."
"If you are trying to antagonize him, you are doing a good job," Perrotte whispered.
Sand scuffed his shoe at her. "I'm just telling the truth!"
"You're very good at telling it in the most maddening way possible."
"Thank you? — Merrie Haskell

I'm alive," he groaned. "But I'm not doing a very good job of it. — Merrie Haskell

I had a dream about you. We were in a canoe, and we were paddling across the desert. You said you were thirsty, and I pointed to the sand that surrounded us and said, "No, I will not urinate in your mouth." At that point I woke up, because I realized I really had to pee - and get a drink of water. — Dora J. Arod

The truth is . . . Well, the truth is the truth, and thus worth telling, but sometimes truths are so complicated that it's exhausting to get them out in the right order." He glanced up at her. That sounded like an evasion if ever she'd heard one. She raised an eyebrow. — Merrie Haskell

It's a funny thing about bogs. You can fill them with rocks and sand and old logs and make a little fenced-in yard on top with a woodpile and chopping block - but bogs go right on behaving like bogs. Early in the spring they breathe ice and make their own mist, in remembrance of the time when they had black water and their own sedge blossoming untouched. — Tove Jansson

You can't draw lines in the sand like that. Humour's a tsunami that doesn't care about your little lines. — S.A. Tawks

What do you have when you have an agent buried up to his neck in sand? Not enough sand. — Pat Williams

You may say what you want to, but in my opinion she had more sand in her than any girl I ever see; in my opinion she was just full of sand. — Mark Twain

I'm going to wake Peeta," I say.
"No, wait," says Finnick. "Let's do it together. Put our faces right in front of his."
Well, there's so little opportunity for fun left in my life, I agree. We position ourselves on either side of Peeta, lean over until our faces are inches frim his nose, and give him a shake. "Peeta. Peeta, wake up," I say in a soft, singsong voice.
His eyelids flutter open and then he jumps like we've stabbed him. "Aa!"
Finnick and I fall back in the sand, laughing our heads off. Every time we try to stop, we look at Peeta's attempt to maintain a disdainful expression and it sets us off again. — Suzanne Collins

Gundhrold's head lowered until his massive beak was only inches away from Amos's nose. "I am a son of the desert. This was once my home - the home of all my kind. I know every crag, every slope, every crick and hollow-"
Amos rolled his eyes. "Every blatherin' speck o' sand? — Gillian Bronte Adams

My brain is a vast, barren, jokeless plain where wolves howl at the moon over rocky overhangs and the wind kicks up twists of sand and tumbleweed. — Craig Silvey